Somersault
by end1essly
Summary: Hermione begins to feel the pull of age: After all, it is quite pathetic to be a single virgin at twenty-eight! Could a series of blind dates turn her luck around?


_i don't own anything, weeeee!_

Author's Note: Yay, Neville! This ficlet was inspired by Zero 7's song "Somersault", but is in no way a songfic. A little shout-out to my wonderful beta, evenstar101: You are the ivory to my ebony key:) Hugs and kisses go to the Sisterz, who support me in everything— I love you, girls:)

Somersault: A Nevmione ficlet

Hermione stared at herself in the magical mirror, debating whether she should leave her hair curly or take the time to straighten it, and whether makeup was even worth the effort. After all, this was one of those horrendous things that were nearly destined to fail: The Blind Date. Hermione could have kicked herself for agreeing; she should have just shut her big mouth that night at dinner, and then things would be fine. She'd be enjoying a nice cup of tea in front of the fireplace instead of primping for some anonymous idiot.

Why in Merlin's name Ginny's choice was first was simply beyond Hermione's understanding. Knowing Ginny, Hermione would be stuck with some asinine putz that would spill his drink on her dress within the first ten minutes and piss her off with his endless Quidditch tales. It struck Hermione as incredibly distasteful that she was meeting Man #1 at a Magical pub, her series of various blind dates to start off on a sour note. After all, was she not worth a classy dinner and dessert at The Unicorn, like she'd seen the Greengrass sisters do in _Witch Weekly_? According to Ginny's "friend", Hermione was simply the equivalent of a few Firewhiskys and an anonymous shag. _Bloody hell._

Hermione frowned, appalled at how it made the girl staring back at her look positively wretched. Goodness, it was embarrassing that she'd had to resort to Ginny, Harry and Luna setting her up with unknown men: What had her life come to???? Here she was, twenty-eight years old and without any romantic prospects, while the rest of her friends were happily married and planning to have children. Harry and Ginny had found love in one another, and Luna had married the equally mysterious and eccentric Rolf Scamander soon after Hogwarts.

It wasn't as if Hermione Granger were absolutely revolting: She had a rewarding job in theDepartment for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the British Ministry, a cute little flat in a fashionable district of London, and a group of loving friends. It would even be an accurate statement to call Hermione Granger quite pretty, her long brown hair and bright hazel eyes reminiscent of Gibson girls at the turn of the century.

Then why was she still pathetically single? Hermione had convinced herself in earlier years that she simply hadn't found the right man yet, but as her biological clock began to tick, so did her alarm at becoming an old maid increase. She wasn't even picky, for Circe's sake! Was it so much to ask, for a charming young man who could hold an intelligent conversation but share Hermione's love for spontaneous adventure? Apparently it was, for Hermione was about to go on three blind dates in three weeks, Merlin help her.

She sighed, throwing her mass of curls into an elegant ponytail, securing her burgundy-hued dress robes around her waist. This man would simply have to deal with the fact that Hermione was in a sour mood, and hopefully placate her frustration with witty conversation and a sweet kiss goodbye at the end of the date. Otherwise, Mystery Man would have hell to pay…

* * *

Hermione nearly turned around as she entered the Three Broomsticks, knowing right away that this date would simply end in discomfort and anger. _Ron Weasley _was standing alone at a circular table, already having ordered a Firewhisky, puffing away at a cigar_._ Honestly, sometimes Hermione wondered if Ginny had lost all of her sanity after being thrashed about by those Bludgers.

Hermione sighed, suppressing her annoyance, and made her way over to the oblivious redhead, who was busy scoping out the leggy females frolicking about. "Hello, Ronald," she said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible.

Ron's head snapping in her direction, blue eyes taking in her form. "Why Hermione, how good it is to see you!" He held out a cigar-dusted hand, which Hermione shook with a grimace, settling across from him.

"Are you my blind date?" Ron asked with a chuckle, one eyebrow raised and smoke anointing the other_. _He was as brilliantly redheaded as ever, although his formerly lanky frame had been enhanced by the addition of some rugged muscles.

"I believe so," Hermione replied, already remembering why their relationship didn't work out nearly a decade before. Damn Ginny for trying to force the subject of her brother on Hermione once again! She swallowed her plots of revenge when she realized that Ron had begun to speak.

"—nice body, Hermione, I'm certainly impressed. Do you fancy a drink? Being sober on a Friday night simply isn't kosher."

Hermione rolled her eyes, leaving Ron for the bar, where she ordered an ice-cold Gillywater. Ron was an absolute cad, which was the reason why she'd dumped him the first time around. He was certainly ignorant of the art of stimulating conversation, his focus limited to booze, women, and that horrible Q word she dare not speak if she wanted to leave The Three Broomsticks tonight with her ears firmly attached to her head. Not to mention he'd constantly wanted to get in her knickers back when they were eighteen, which Hermione had stoutly refused, seeing as she was saving her virginity for someone she loved. Which now that she thought about it, was an awful plan, because her virginity was still her own at her advanced age…She was nearly sixty, in man-years!

"Bloody hell," Hermione muttered, drink in hand, making her way back to Ron, who had abandoned his former location for a small table for two.

"What was that, my sweet?" Ron responded, still puffing away, raking back his bangs in a way Hermione was sure he thought alluring.

"I'm not your sweet," Hermione responded in a tone as kindly as she could manage. "And it was nothing, simply remembering my schedule for Monday."

"Oh yes, you're working for the Ministry!" Ron said excitedly, leaning closer. "How is that working out for you?"

Hermione tried her best not to sigh, knowing that Ron honestly didn't care about her job; it was all a tactic to lower her defenses while in pursuit of seduction. Ron himself was Keeper for the Cannons, and therefore had no appreciation for a regular work schedule without being addled by the siren call of liquor. "Things are going just splendidly, I'm first in line for being promoted to Head once Winters retires…"

"I'm happy for you, I really am," Ron replied, taking a long pull from his glass, which Hermione noticed was twice the size of her own. "When Ginny mentioned that you were still interested in me, I was quite surprised, really, considering how things ended last time."

Vowing to have Ginny suffer a long and painful death, Hermione resisted gritting her teeth, features settling in a painful smile. "Yes, things certainly didn't end well, but I'm always open to new things…"

"Are you, now?" Ron responded, his attempt at using a seductive voice failing with the fact that a trashy cigar was poking out the left side of his mouth.

Hermione's disgust was saved by the arrival of the waiter, who brought by the ice cream that she'd ordered earlier. Ice cream was a particular pleasure of hers, and she figured this date could be elevated to bittersweet status with a bowl of the creamy goodness in front of her. She'd managed to savor a few bites before another spoon came into her periphery.

"May I try?" Ron asked greedily, not even waiting for a response. Before Hermione knew it, her concoction was two-thirds finished, Ron patting his belly in contentment.

"My, that was excellent. Good taste, Hermione."

Hermione summoned all of her self-control into politely pushing the bowl aside, standing up and placing the appropriate amount of currency on the table. Ron joined her, cigar nearly falling out of his mouth in surprise. "But Hermione, we've just arrived, wherever are you going?"

Hermione shot him a small smile, tired of the smoke and rank smell of alcohol that permeated the place. "Shall we go to the beach? I find it to be irresistible at night!"

Ron shrugged, tossing a handful of coins onto the table and putting on his beat-up overcoat, following Hermione out of the pub. Once out on the street, Hermione held out her arm, to which Ron replied, a bit stupidly, "Where are we going?"

"Falmouth," Hermione responded right before the pair whisked away from London and were off to the coast.

Hermione was as right as rain when they arrived, but Ron seemed to be worse for wear from their trip, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. Hermione couldn't help sneering internally, glad that Ron was receiving some internal revenge for his idiotic fascination with the drink. She began to walk down the boardwalk, Ron limping to catch up with his date.

It seemed that a late-night stroll was a popular idea, for couples were walking up and down the boardwalk, enjoying the magnificently clear stars in the sky above. The wind from the ocean blew on the tops of the houses, infusing the air with a delicately refreshing scent. Hermione sighed contentedly, bringing her robes closer to her body to protect from the cold. Falmouth was her favourite city in all of Britain, the coast never ceasing to rejuvenate her body and mind. It was a drawback that daft Ron Weasley was hot on her heels, but at least Hermione was at the one place that she loved more than anything.

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron puffed. "What's the hurry? The water's not leaving anytime soon!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, keeping up the quick pace to the seaside. This date might even be worthwhile if she could get her embarrassing partner away from public. Oh goodness, she had spoken too soon…

Attempting to keep up with Hermione, Ron had collided with a bloke who was taking his girlfriend on a romantic walk. Rather than apologize profusely, Ron decided to unload his stupidity on the younger man.

"Oi, mate, what the fuck was that? Watch where you're walking!" Ron barked, eyes scrunched up in annoyance.

"I'd ask the same of you," the other man, who was short and blond, shot back, eyebrows raised. "And if you'd refrain from such language in front of my fiancée, it's not appropriate."

"Appropriate, my arse!" Ron snarled, hands curling up into fists. "If your mother simply had taught you to mind your own fucking business, this wouldn't have happened…"

Before the other man could respond, Hermione came to the rescue, wrenching Ron's left arm quite forcefully. "I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized to the young couple, shooting a glare at the sheepish redhead. "It seems that my _date_ has no manners whatsoever. Have a good evening."

The two went on their way, Hermione disgusted by Ron's juvenile behavior. The redhead followed her to the coast, silent and sullen, taking a swig from his flask when he knew Hermione wasn't looking. Hermione stopped when she reached the sand, pulling off her mules and letting the soft particles squish between her toes. Ron stumbled behind her, not noticing the sand got into his sneakers as he trampled through the dark, nearly dropping his alcohol in the process.

Hermione sat at the top of a rather sizable sand dune; swishing her feet back and forth and watching the wild waves beat against the shoreline in a late night gesture of beauty. She hadn't seen Ron in a few minutes, guessing that he was still trying to catch up with her, the imbecile. Needless to say, she certainly wouldn't be dating Ron Weasley again.

The petite brunette stood up, looking down the sand dune, arms crossed against her chest in an expression of contentment. How she loved the beach, the quiet microcosm of life and death helping her keep things in perspective, even when life seemed never-ending and perilous. Hermione smiled as a silly idea popped up in her head, Ron finally joining her at the top of the sand dune.

"Will you somersault down this hill with me?" Hermione asked excitedly, the sudden urge to do something spontaneous simply overwhelming.

"Somersault?" Ron slurred, looking a bit unsteady. "Are you barmy, Hermione? That's a ridiculous idea!"

Shaking her head in disappointment, Hermione brought herself into a front tuck, vaulting off the edge and allowing the wind and gravity to take control. She let out a giddy squeal as she fell head over heels, not caring that the sand was working its way into her curls and clothes, thinking only of the rush that came with somersaulting wildly. Hermione came to a stop only a few meters from the water, giggling for several minutes from her exciting way of travel. Then she was in the waves, skipping and dancing, water droplets soaking the hemline of her dress robes and flying up to cover her face with a delicate layer of moisture.

Hermione let out a whoop, spinning around in the water with her arms in the air. Oh, how this was infinity, the moments in life that made it worth living. She skipped, cartwheeled and danced until exhaustion overcame her frame, and she made her way back to Ron, the beach at her back.

She had thought he lay on his back, admiring the stars, but as Hermione got closer, she realized that Ron was passed out drunk, the remains of his cigar still burning in his dirty mouth. Disgusted, she grabbed the plume of smoke and put it out in the sand, shooting a death glare at the sleeping man curled up on the beach.

She apparated home alone that evening, not caring what became of Ron Weasley.

* * *

"He did _what_?" Ginny asked, completely exasperated. Luna and Harry erupted in raucous laughter, and even Hermione couldn't help snickering at her recount of the Ron incident. "I told him to be on his best behavior, too!"

Hermione shook her head, drinking the fizzy concoction that Luna had recommended to her. "Ginny, I can't believe you'd actually think it would work? Sorry, but your brother is an absolute wanker!"

Harry chuckled softly, squeezing Ginny's knee affectionately. "I knew it wasn't a good idea, love. Besides, she's going to be smitten with my date!"

Ginny scoffed, throwing back her mead sullenly. "Your mate is an absolute prat, Hermione's going to fly off her rocker!"

Hermione glared at the pair just as Rolf walked in, squeezing next to Luna and pressing a polite kiss on the blonde's cheek. "I thought the whole reason behind your little plot was to actually find me a satisfactory boyfriend! And now Harry's choice is a bust too?"

"Hold on, now," Harry replied, shaking hands with the dark-haired Rolf. "I never said he was a bust, that was Ginny. I think you'll have a great time with my pick, he's a fellow Ministry employee, incredibly charming, and quite intelligent to boot."

"But they have a history!" Ginny hissed before Harry nudged her sharply in the ribs, causing Hermione's eyebrows to fly into her hairline. Hermione opened her mouth, eager to inquire into Ginny's statement, but Luna's dreamy voice conveniently interrupted her.

"How are things going at work, Hermione? Are the Merpeople still giving you a hard time?"

"We've agreed to extend their reservation in the North Sea in exchange for their cooperation," Hermione responded, as Harry rolled his eyes and went off to get another drink. "But who knows if that will work out. All this could be avoided if we would just let them roam free, but no one listens to me… How's the construction of the Ramora habitat coming along, Rolf?"

Rolf, who looked a little like a mouse but adored Luna to the point of nausea, let out his characteristic chuckle. "Oh, it's not the Ramora that are making the task difficult; Some prankster let loose an entire barrel of Runespoors, and they are destroying everything, busy biting themselves, as they do…"

"I did manage to find a Selkie," Luna piped up, looking at Rolf fondly. "He liked to masquerade as a leprechaun, quite curious in Sri Lanka…"

Hermione checked her watch, realizing that she'd spent too much time at the club and her lack of sleep would have her incoherent when she went into work the next morning. Harry and Ginny looked appalled when the brunette stood up, tucking her wand into her sizeable handbag. Luna simply waved, snuggling closer to Rolf's side, her husband's hand resting on the place that housed their unborn son.

"Hermione, you can't possibly be leaving so soon!" Ginny pleaded, red waves tossing across her shoulders, arm around Harry. Ever the best friend, Harry smiled, dragging Ginny away from Hermione and speaking to her consolingly.

"She probably wants to appear rested for her date tomorrow. It's at the Unicorn, of all places!"

Ginny let out an excited squeal, Harry winking and waving at Hermione as she began to make her way to the entrance of the busy dance club.

_The Unicorn_, Hermione thought dazedly, the cold air hitting her face a stark contrast from the humid heat of inside. _He really must be something… Then again, when has Harry ever failed me? Maybe this guy will be the one to make me feel special…_

Hermione was nearly to the Apparition point when a horrible thought struck her: _What in the bloody hell am I going to wear to the Unicorn?!?!?_

_

* * *

_

Hermione stood nervously in the lobby of the Unicorn, teeth beginning to chatter nervously as she waited for the Maître'd to arrive. She'd been fretting for hours over this date, going through six different hairstyles and twice as many outfits, her fingernails bitten down to mere stubs. Luna had come over to soothe Hermione's nerves, but only succeeding in getting several cups of Earl Grey in the brunette, Hermione running to the bathroom every half hour because of both nausea and bodily function.

It was funny that while she couldn't have cared less upon meeting Ron, Harry's date had caused Hermione to reach a state of anxiety she hadn't encountered since the days of their NEWT exams. It peeved her to think that a silly date had caused her to become so irate, and she hoped that during the course of the evening she could relax and actually enjoy herself. Whether her feet could tolerate the heels she was sporting, remained to be seen.

"Excuse me, Miss?" came a soft polite voice, pulling Hermione's attention to the walnut stand that reigned over the vast entry room. "May I help you?"

"Oh yes," Hermione responded, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "I'm here for a blind date, I was instructed by my friend to ask for the table under 'Toil and Trouble'…"

"Ah yes," the waiter responded, scribbling down on the pad before him. "You must be the beautiful young lady! Let me lead you to your table!"

The path the Maître'd led her on was superfluously intricate, Hermione losing count after fifty tables. The lighting in the restaurant became increasingly dimmer as the pair worked their way past dozens of fellow eaters, so that by the time Hermione had reached her date, the tables were lit by single candles. The young man who stood up to greet her was slender but nicely toned, his crisp black suit emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders.

It had been several years since she had last seen Theo Nott, so Hermione was considerably startled when the wavy-haired brunet stooped down to give her a welcome kiss. She allowed the waiter to remove her robe after Theo sat back down, revealing the mauve ballet-neck sheath and silver heels that she had chosen to wear underneath.

"Hermione, you are positively stunning," Theo said warmly, raising his champagne glass in appreciation once Hermione joined him at the table. "I haven't seen you in ten years, but you haven't changed a bit."

Hermione flushed lightly, quite taken with the way his hazel eyes sparkled when he looked at her. "Why Theo, I never would have expected you to be Harry's choice! I thought you were long married by now!"

After harboring a secret desire for Hermione throughout his Hogwarts years, Theo was ratted out by the heartless Draco Malfoy, who announced the news immediately after Hermione and Theo had been assigned as Arithmancy partners. The rest of the year had been painful, the quiet and structured Theo speaking little to the more forceful and responsible Hermione. Despite the embarrassing debacle, the duo had parted ways amicably at graduation.

Theo smiled sadly at Hermione's words, politely handing her the tasseled menu that he'd been previously looking at. "Once upon a time I was promised to another, but the lady in question broke off the engagement. I've been devoted to my work ever since."

Hermione frowned softly, eyes scanning across the entrée choices, which certainly were multi-ethnic and incredibly expensive. "I'm sorry to hear of that, you don't deserve such treatment." Hermione pursed her lips, feeling as awkward as she had a decade before. "What kind of business do you do?" she asked, deciding on the Foie gras.

Theo's face turned quite pleasant, obviously excited that she had brought that stem of conversation up. "Upon my father's death, I inherited the entirety of Nott Enterprises. Of course, I was only fifteen at the time, so my father's closest friend ran things for a while. As soon as I came of age I began acting as executive, and have been in business meetings ever since."

The two laughed at his little joke, Theo's deep baritone contrasting greatly with the high breathiness of Hermione's voice. The brunette took a sip of the drink before her, smiling at the man across from her.

"But what exactly does Nott Enterprises do? Something related to the Ministry?" she asked, remembering Harry's earlier comment.

"We specialize in high-quality wards, created by advanced nonverbal spells," Theo replied, his tone shifting into the realm of professionalism. "The Ministry has trusted our company for the last forty years, to not only protect the building, but keep it hidden from any type of Muggle interference."

"That sounds fascinating," Hermione replied, relieved that this date had a knowledge in something other than the saving records of various Quidditch teams.

Theo shot her a grin, his words interrupted by the arrival of the waiter, who came to take their respective orders. The conversation that followed was one that Hermione would remember for years to come, and not in the ordinary pleasant way. It seemed that dear Theo was unhealthily obsessed with his work, and despite her attempts to change the subject, Hermione was bogged down with the intricacies of setting up a security ward.

"—and then I said, why not make them colored, for theme parties?" Theo continued on gaily, a full forty-five minutes later. Hermione was slumped down in her chair, pushing her leftover peas from one side of her plate to the other. She was incredibly bored, and on the verge of falling asleep at the table.

Once again, things were saved by the triumphant waiter, who arrived with the crisply pressed bill on a silver platter.

"How time flies!" Theo responded, pressing a card on the platter and nodding approvingly to the waiter. "Dinner has been ever so enjoyable! Would you like to make another stop? The night is still young!"

Hermione sat up eagerly; glad that she would be able to leave in the near future. The Unicorn was positively lovely, decorated in silvers and blacks, but its overall glamour had been dampened by such a tedious (and one-sided) conversation.

"Shall we go to the beach?" she squealed, taking Theo rather by surprise, his hazel eyes wide. "I do love Falmouth, the air makes me feel so alive!"

Theo gave his consent, albeit hesitantly. "I'm not very fond of the water, but I suppose a nice stroll on the sand would be nice…"

Hermione literally pulled the reedy young man out of the restaurant, stopping only to allow him to collect his card. Theo whined all the way to the Apparition point, complaining about the creases in his suit. Hermione tried her best not to roll her eyes, sighing at the fact that this date had started off so wonderfully, then crashed and burned. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so thoroughly bored; she was Hermione Granger, after all!

The beach would be Theo Nott's final test. There was no way in Voldemort that her second date could make a stroll look more undesirable than Ron Weasley had, so Hermione had faith that the polite young man would redeem himself in the latter half of the evening. The two Apparated to Falmouth just as twilight glittered across the coastal sky, giving the ocean a soft sheen.

Hermione sighed romantically, accepting Theo's offered arm. The two walked down to the seaside, taking the same path that she had on her previous date. Theo raised his eyes to the faint stars above, mouth bowed in an amused expression.

"Do you fancy Astronomy? I confess I have loved it ever since school… I have a telescope at my estate; I use it to see my favourite constellation, Piscis Austrinus..."

Hermione yawned loudly, anticipating another lengthy lecture, this time about Astronomy. While the subject fascinated her, she didn't want the glories of the night sky to be ruined by Mr. Boringpants. She broke away from Theo, skipping to the sand and relishing the familiar feel of the miniscule little rocks, softer than silk.

"Isn't the beach glorious?" she exclaimed, interrupting the young man's stream of consciousness. "It truly is my favourite place on earth." Hermione looked back at Theo, hoping desperately that a bit of excitement lay beneath his otherwise perfect façade.

Her heart was doomed to sink, for Theo merely wrinkled his nose, passing his hands over the smooth pleats in his suit. "I wouldn't want you to ruin your dress by frolicking about in the icy water! Come now, let's go find a bench and have a nice chat, shall we?"

Horrified at the prospect of having to listen to him babble, Hermione bolted off towards the water, taking her time to turn an ungraceful somersault over a large sand dune in spite of Theo's pacifying words. She may be poised, diligent and modest in the workplace, but Hermione Granger had a spirited personality, one that was excited by spontaneity and the pursuit of adventure. After all, all of those years chasing after Harry had tossed Hermione's chances at living a completely normal life into the blender.

Hermione was nearly at the water now, tossing her shoes and not caring where they landed. She turned around to find that Theo was still in eyeshot, standing in place with his arms crossed. The sight made Hermione sigh the deepest of sighs, knowing that yet another blind date had ended in disappointment.

She needed a man who could appreciate life and embrace it wholeheartedly. A man that could spend hard days at work, and still be willing to let loose in his downtimes, joining Hermione in her endeavors across London. While Theo was pleasant and the most gentlemanly of gentlemen, the fact that he wouldn't let loose with her, i.e. somersault, was one Hermione simply couldn't ignore.

* * *

"I've decided that I'm giving up," Hermione proclaimed, with a tone of finality. "I'll be living all by myself in Scarborough and waste away until I'm grey and cranky."

Luna smiled at her knowingly, patting her own protruding stomach serenely. "Oh Hermione, you can't possibly know that. Besides, you haven't even given my date a chance yet!"

Hermione groaned, leaning her head against the armchair. Her hair was in absolute disarray, not having adequate time to dry it that morning. She'd promised to visit Luna before her last blind date, seeing as the blonde was far along in her pregnancy and would most likely be in labor within the next few days.

"Oh Luna," she replied. "I just feel so abnormal. Everyone is married, and you're about to have a darling baby and it seems like I'm so behind…"

"Oh dearie," Luna responded, patting Hermione's hand tenderly. "Don't worry about such things; they will only drag you down. I think you will enjoy the person I chose for you, your personalities are so harmonious…"

Hermione nodded softly, realizing the truth in her dear friend's words. After all, there had never been a time when Luna had led her astray, and the blonde certainly had an uncanny knack at being perceptive. Hermione knew that she couldn't go into her final date with such a defeatist attitude, or things would go astray at the very beginning.

"I won't deny that I'm still worried, but thank you for your help, Luna," the brunette replied, sinking her teeth into the soft croissant arranged daintily on the plate before her. "Is little Lysander giving you any more trouble? He certainly is going to be a large one!"

Luna smiled dreamily, looking out her window and into the gloomy and drizzly weather. "I certainly am excited to be a mother. It'll be nice to have someone to take care of while Rolf is away."

Hermione took a sip of tea, her eyes landing on the little blue clock that Luna kept in the parlor. "Merlin! It's nearly 5 o'clock!" she exclaimed, starting to pace around the floral themed living room.

"No fretting for you," Luna replied gaily, standing up and gesturing to the hallway. "Now, let's move to the bathroom, and I'll arrange your hair as you'd requested!"

Hermione gave the blonde a warm smile as they traveled to the other room, thankful that Luna hadn't conceded to her easily excitable manner. While a rather unusual dresser, the blonde was quite talented with hairstyles, possessing the ability to weave Hermione and Ginny's unruly manes into elegant coiffures.

Luna sat Hermione down in a plushy armchair, and then arranged hairbrushes and hairpins on the bathroom counter. Using a bit of essential oil and magic, the blonde transformed Hermione's thick curls into soft bouncy waves. "Could you make it straight? I'd like to try something new…" Hermione asked tentatively.

Luna raised her wand in reply, and the soft brunette waves fell in a single motion to rest against Hermione's waist. The blonde brushed a little and added hairspray, then smiled at what she'd accomplished. "You look just lovely, Hermione. I'm sure you'll have a fabulous time!" Luna said cheerfully.

Hermione looked at her reflection, the sleek-haired brunette in deep navy dress robes she'd borrowed from a friend, wearing a nervous expression that caused the young woman to look pained. _I really hope this works out,_ Hermione thought anxiously. _I don't want to be lonely anymore._

_

* * *

_

Hermione had knocked on the small wooden door three times before realizing that there was a note attached to the entrance. She'd been so transfixed by the serene charm of Monty's Glen, which looked like a little village straight out of a fairytale, that she'd nearly forgotten her place in reality. Hermione pulled the stiff parchment from where it lay under the house number, taking a step back on the cobblestoned porch.

_Dearest Mystery Miss-_

_I do hope to be finished by the time six o'clock comes, but you are more than welcome to come find me in the garden if I am regretfully tardy._

_Looking forward to meeting you,_

_Your Mystery Man_

Hermione couldn't help but find humor in the man's polite way of speech, which was reminiscent of a Jane Austen novel. An ivy-laced gate laid to the right of the house, presumably leading to the backyard, the lair of her blind date. Hermione tried her best to not track mud on her knee-high boots, taking a deep breath of the fresh air as she walked across the lawn. It had been ages since she'd been to the country, the hectic pace of London city life seeming so artificial compared to the sweet simplicity Hermione found here.

A decent-sized greenhouse was tucked in the corner of the garden and was filled with a myriad of plants, from vines to hibiscus. Hermione tentatively placed her hand on the rusty doorknob, poking her head inside the glass structure. A tall man had his back to her, whistling a lilting Irish tune while he potted plants and placed them on a wheeled cart. The greenhouse was humid and thick with the scent of exotic flowers and even more bizarre plants, the array of colors hitting Hermione hard. Her deep breath alerted the young man before her, who spun about in shock.

"What—Hermione?!" Hermione was surprised to find Neville Longbottom before her, although the well-tended plants should have been a rather large clue.

"I do hope you aren't disappointed," Hermione replied jokingly, teasing him by lowering her eyelashes.

"Of course not! It's delightful that you're my date! I simply wasn't expecting you!" Neville's speech was rushed, a rather adorable attempt to cover up his nervousness. He was just as tall as Hermione had remembered, but an impressive upper body, seemingly gained from countless hours in the garden, enhanced his formerly unremarkable frame. His hair was a mass of blondish-brown ringlets, thrown about in that Devil-may-care manner that so many young men tried to emulate. Neville's grin was still slightly crooked, but his olivey-brown eyes were warm, showing much of the caring, timid young man she'd known for so many years.

"How have you been, Neville?" Hermione replied, letting her eyes flicker over Neville's dirt-encrusted hands for a moment. The young man flushed noticeably, quickly brushing off the mulch back into the wheelbarrow.

"Oh, things have been excellent! My plants have been taking off since the weather got warmer," Neville responded, hands resting near the hem of his sweater.

Hermione's eyes perused the rather pleasing torso of her date; the red jumper clinging to every finely formed muscle. "So you're a Herbologist now, then?" she asked, somewhat surprised that she was ogling _Neville Longbottom_.

"Oh yes, I work both with Sal Scamander, the renowned Newt Scamander's cousin, and the Ministry at times. Most of my emphasis is on Magical Plants, but I do love Muggle blooms… Would you like to see them before we go?"

Hermione nodded, and the young man took her on a small tour amongst the plants, walking closely enough to be attentive, but in no means was the proximity inappropriate. He was always so considerate, Neville was, that Hermione was slightly nervous that the evening would stay in tedious pleasantry. Meanwhile, whilst Hermione was lost in her thoughts, Neville unlocked a smaller gate and let Hermione into an area full of vibrant flowers.

"These are my prizewinners," Neville told her modestly, a faint flush crossing his expression. He stood to the side and watched as Hermione admired the lovely blooms, recognizing many from her mother's gardening books and shows she'd seen on the telly. Her eyes landed on a magnificent pure white orchid, spotted with a shade of the most delicate pink.

"Oh Neville," Hermione cooed, in awe of the magnificent flower. "It's gorgeous! I've never seen one so perfectly formed! And so large!"

Neville smiled appreciatively as he joined her, one hand grasping a bag of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans that lay on a counter nearby. "Oh yes, she's certainly my precious little girl, raised her from a bulb and watched her like a hawk. Are you fond of orchids?"

Hermione smiled. "Orchids are my favourite flower. My mother used to have one sitting in my room every time I came home from Hogwarts. It gives me such fond memories…"

Neville nodded thoughtfully, his eyes becoming wistful. "Then this one is yours, my dear."

Hermione looked at him, flabbergasted. "Oh Neville, I couldn't! You said it yourself, the flower's won you many prizes, and you've taken such good care of it—"

"Oh Hermione," Neville interrupted softly. "It would give me the greatest pleasure if it belonged to you, a true orchid lover. I'll have her transferred to you tomorrow."

The brunette sparkled in pleasure, her grin incandescent, causing all attempts at speech to spectacularly fail. "You're too kind…"

"It is my gift to give," Neville replied, smiling himself. "Would you like a bean before we depart to dinner?" He offered the bag in his calloused hand, a few flecks of dirt falling to the greenhouse floor.

Hermione reached her hand into the bag, finding that there was only a single one lying at the bottom of the cloth surface. "But Neville, this is the last one! Are you not fond of chocolate?"

Neville shook his head, a small grin on his face as he began to walk away. "I am, but you are more than welcome to have it. Wouldn't want us to be late, would you?"

Hermione couldn't help but giggle softly as she popped the bean in her mouth, the sweet flavour of cocoa absorbing itself into her tongue. Neville's kindness was making Theo Nott look like an absolute cad! But Neville's gentle demeanor wasn't borne of decorum and the desire to be politically correct, but was ingrained in his very being, which she found incredibly impressive. His kindness left Hermione dizzy and touched with the feeling of being deeply respected. It seemed that this date was headed in a very wonderful direction…

* * *

Hermione clung to Neville's arm as the two strolled out of the Phoenix's Cage and onto the busy London streets. Despite it being dark, the streets were full of witches and wizards, celebrating Midsummer's Eve in a variety of colorful costume. Neville kept a protective hold on Hermione as they weaved through the crowd, never missing a beat, even when Hermione nearly slipped on a puddle formed by the rain that had fallen that day.

Hermione smiled widely as they stopped at a little outdoor café named Daylily, one that boasted "The Best Ice cream in Wizarding London".

"Shall we drop in for a sweet?" Neville asked, turning his gentle eyes to look at her face.

"Oh, that would be lovely," Hermione replied, quite taken at this point.

The two were escorted to a cozy table away from the other customers, Neville pulling out her chair and gesturing Hermione to sit down. Once Neville was absorbed in which ice to order, Hermione found herself giggling behind her menu, the smile she wore ever so comfortable. The night had been smashing so far, the evening spent in the most entertaining and witty conversation, Neville promising Hermione a special surprise after they made a quick stop for ice cream.

Despite his obvious reserved nature, Hermione was pleasantly surprised at how well the two of them got along. Far from being the skittish young man that had hid from Professor Snape in the corridors, with age Neville had acquired a comfortable feel for his own skin, something Hermione found inexplicably attractive. The two shared a love for research and literature, swapping favorite reading areas in bookstores and coffeehouses across London. Neville's speech was slow and pleasant like sweet honey, and his occasional word mix-ups left Hermione smiling at how adorable he was.

"Have you decided yet?" Neville asked, gently tapping Hermione's menu to retrieve her attention.

"Oh," Hermione replied flusteredly. "I'm not quite sure. I already ate more than I should at the Phoenix, wouldn't want to gain a stone…"

Neville sighed, waving her comment off with a controlled hand. "Posh. You're already beautiful; I think your figure could handle a sweet. Didn't you mention your favorite was chocolate?"

Hermione blushed slightly at his compliment, nodding in response. Her companion began to describe a few tantalizing confections he had before, Hermione barely listening to the way Neville's voice wrapped and caressed the linguistics of the English language. How was it that Neville could make her flush like an adolescent schoolgirl on her first date, make her feel worthy of being protected and admired? Her friends had always smothered Hermione with love, but she had never ever felt as peculiar as she did now…

"I think I'll have a double scoop of the chocolate please, with the syrup, please?" Hermione told the waitress, who whisked away their menus and disappeared back into the darkness.

"Are you having a good time?" Neville asked, a trace of nervousness lacing his deep tone.

"Oh yes!" she responded, smiling reassuringly. A shudder ran down Hermione's spine as the two accidentally brushed hands while grasping their water glasses, causing Hermione to feel effortlessly young for the second time that night. This time was completely different in feeling, seeming to be closely linked to her racing heart and the sudden flaring up of her delicate skin. Could she be…oh Merlin…feeling lust for Neville?

"Shall I give you a hint about my surprise?" Neville teased, saving Hermione from making a complete fool of herself at their child-sized table.

"Could you?" Hermione shot back, unable to resist flirting with the man who sat across from her.

Neville raised a surprised eyebrow, but was able to maintain his composure. "It isn't anywhere near the country. I do love the woods dearly, but I figured this would be a nice change of pace."

"Sounds exciting," Hermione replied sincerely, slightly afraid that she had scared off her gentle companion. "Although I must agree, I was quite taken with Monty's Glen! How did you decide to make it your home?"

Neville smiled gaily, seemingly glad that they were back on familiar ground. "I couldn't live anywhere in town because of my profession," he began. "The pollution isn't good for the creatures, and I wanted to have both sunshine and rain the year long. My great-uncle lived in Monty's Glen for many years, and recommended it for me…"

The two were laughing about Fred and George Weasley's Hogwarts hijinks when their ice cream arrived, Neville smiling appreciatively at the waitress in response.

"My, Fred and George were one of the best things about Hogwarts," Neville replied, mixing his caramel and butterscotch syrups together. "We had so many awful times, so it was nice to have some comic relief, seeing their Dungbombs and swamps in the halls..." He frowned down at his ice cream, which caused Hermione to look at him concernedly.

"You're not thinking of Malfoy, are you?" Hermione responded, sucking on the tiny bite of ice cream that covered her spoon. "You know he had no right to say any of the things he did. He's most likely bald and completely miserable with his prim and proper Pureblood wife."

Neville nodded halfheartedly. "But some of his insults… were completely true. I was fat and clumsy, and had no friends save for you and Harry."

Hermione rolled her eyes in response. "Oh Neville, you had plenty of friends in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw! And you certainly were not fat!"

Neville let out a hearty laugh. "Blimey, Hermione, do you remember my puffy cheeks? They used to call me Large-Jowls Longbottom!"

Hermione bit her lip, trying to suppress the small laugh she felt at the remembrance of that particular memory. "Okay, maybe just a bit…"

Neville smiled broadly, patting Hermione's hand affectionately. "Oh Hermione, you are too good to me! But never mind such unpleasant things, they are in the past now, Godric's Beard!" He took another bite of his vanilla ice cream, peering at Hermione's own goblet. "Are you waiting for it to melt? Come on, Hermione; bring some color to those lovely cheeks of yours!"

Hermione grinned down at her dessert, glad that she could relish every last morsel by herself. She couldn't wait to see what Neville had in store!

* * *

"Take a few more steps," Neville said softly in her ear, keeping his strong hand lightly pressed up against her eyes. Hermione did as instructed, her bare feet encountering the most wonderful of surfaces.

"Neville!" Hermione shrieked, trying desperately to push off her companion's hand. "Are we at the beach?!"

With the removal of Neville's fingers Hermione was reintroduced to the world of many shades and colors, the smiling face of her young man being the first harmonious sight she encountered.

"Why yes, Hermione," Neville responded, grinning. "Falmouth, to be exact. It's the beach I spent my childhood on."

Throwing all self-restraint to the wind, Hermione squealed and ran at Neville, arms encircling his neck as the pair fell into the sand with a thud. After a few seconds of shocked silence, the sound of giggling and deep laughing permeated the atmosphere.

"I think that was the most exciting 'Thank You' I've ever received," Neville chuckled, peering up at Hermione in the darkness.

"Oh, how could you have possibly known?" Hermione replied excitedly. "You are just perfect, perfect."

In the most cliché of ways, the clear sky bore witness to the pair of excited lovers, smiling happily at one another as they lay in the sand. The water continued its endless cycle, bringing new materials to the surface whilst consuming countless particles of sand, a lonely seagull surveying the landscape from his perch on a scraggly rock. After all, this wasn't the first couple in the history of the world to admit their feelings amongst the comfort of dunes, while stars twinkled, planets far away spinning in their respective orbits. It was only natural that Neville's hands sunk deep in brunette curls as his jaw line was caressed by a soft pair of plump pink lips, the soft rustling of sand as a shirt was hesitantly unbuttoned, the echo of a gentle feminine sigh, the silent intimacy of feminine hands gliding across a toned chest, the stark quiet caused by two lovers kissing, again and again and again and again.

Twenty minutes later, the couple sat side-by-side watching the tide come in, Neville's right arm draped across Hermione's delicate shoulders.

"Listen, Hermione," Neville began awkwardly, visibly reddening despite the lack of the light in the area. "It's not that I'm not attracted to you, because I am, but I'm just…"

Hermione turned her hazel eyes to his face, pressing a sweet kiss on his free hand in encouragement. "What is it, Neville?"

"I'm scared," he admitted. "To be honest, I've never really been in a relationship before. I'm rubbish at this whole game… You're the first woman I've ever… touched under her shirt."

Hermione shook her head, slightly surprised at how attached she'd become to him in such a short time. They were kindred spirits, slightly misunderstood by society's norms and bound together by their shared love for knowledge. Of course Neville was no gigolo— Before this whole blind date nonsense, Hermione had been on no more than five dates, each one ending in disaster or disappointing mediocrity.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione replied, soothing his fears. "I'm about as practiced as you are, and I know how terrifying it is to experience the first time. Just relax. When it feels right, and you care for the person you're with, then it will be truly worth it."

Neville looked at her thoughtfully, giving her a kiss so tender and gentle, it nearly made Hermione cry with the realization that she had met someone so wonderful on a _blind date_.

"Thank you, Hermione," Neville murmured in her ear, his sweet smile lighting up his entire face.

Hermione squeezed his hand in response, closing her eyes to let the crisp air flutter across her eyelashes. When her eyes opened again, Neville was staring at her, transfixed.

"Sweet Merlin, Hermione, you are beautiful," he whispered, tucking a wayward strand of hair back into place from where it drifted across her cheek.

Hermione giggled inwardly then winked, keeping Neville's hand close to her as she stood up, her eyes focused on the ocean. "So I'm guessing this isn't a one-time deal?" she asked wryly, turning slightly to shoot her date a smirk.

"Absolutely not," Neville responded, joining her on his feet and wrapping his arms around her petite form. "That is, if you're willing…"

Hermione rolled her eyes, pulling away from Neville and skipping off in the opposite direction. "Honestly, Neville, sometimes you are so thick! Shall we somersault?"

Neville's expression was quite confused for a moment, before Hermione launched off the nearest sand dune, her delighted shrieks filling the air. Seconds later, he was right there next to her, sand in his hair and hope in his heart.


End file.
